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Weekly Contest #189
His eyes fluttered open, the smell of the campfire stuck to his clothes, the dense canopy of the forest hindered what motes of midday sun escaped through the obstructing dark clouds above, and what pitiful light graced the forest floor revealed only underbrush, no shelter from the weather, no clearing of foliage fit for resting, no ashen remains of a campfire, and no signs of his friends or an indication he had ever occupied this space any sooner than his eyes laid upon it. The darkness from the night before made finding any differences or s...
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